addiction
by dellums
Summary: noun; the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity. - Alfred wasn't addicted. He could stop whenever he wanted to. He just... couldn't see the point in it. That's all.


_[author's notes.]_

_Because people keep asking for more Kimchiburger; and who am I to deny it~?_

_I hope you enjoy :3_

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><p><strong>Addicted.<strong>

It wasn't like Alfred was addicted or anything. He could stop whenever he felt like it. He could stop without a second thought, without that annoying voice in the back of his brain, begging for more. He didn't _need_ to live like this; no, that's not how it worked. He just enjoyed it. His lifestyle was his own, and nobody could tell him otherwise. So if he wanted to do the same thing every single night, good for him!

Besides, there was only one other person that Alfred's nightly routine even affected, and he didn't seem to mind either.

-O-O-O-

It had all started back in October, when a drunk Korean had grabbed the wrong phone at a party. He didn't realize it until the next, painful morning, when he found himself on the doorstep of a sleepy, blue-eyed, blond-haired man (one that he vaguely recalled seeing with some British dude at the party the night before). Yong Soo had returned the cell phone to Alfred, and Alfred had offered him some pizza because he'd accidentally ordered seven boxes and could not finish them all off himself.

So the two had bonded. Gotten to know each other. Had eaten twice their combined weight in pepperoni pizza in the span of a few hours. They'd become friends, and ended up making out in Alfred's kitchen. You know, the usual.

After that, they'd decided it would be easiest for both of them to become roommates. It would be cheaper, and they were going to the same college, anyway. So Yong Soo dutifully moved in with Alfred, staying in the spare room.

They hadn't really talked about moving their relationship past friendship, and never acknowledged that steamy make-out session on their first meeting. But that was okay. For the two of them, being with the other was just enough.

It wasn't until they watched _The Ring_ that the thought of dating Alfred even danced through Yong Soo's mind.

The Korean'd had no idea that Alfred was so easily frightened. He didn't know that he couldn't handle scary movies. So when Al had told him to go out and get a movie and popcorn and as much candy as he could carry, Yong Soo had picked up the horror movie his Japanese cousin recommended without a thought. Yong Soo had personally never seen it, but if Kiku said it was good, it must have been.

So he went back to the apartment after that and they started the movie. The beginning wasn't so bad. It was toward the middle that Alfred began scooting noticeably closer to Yong Soo, shivering. Somewhere between then and the credits, Alfred had buried himself underneath a mountain of blankets and was practically curled up in his friend's lap, who was sitting, watching the movie calmly.

Alfred wouldn't leave Yong Soo's side at all that night. Tiredly, they had agreed that the blond could sleep in his bed as well, so long as he kept tight control over his blatter and didn't drool too much.

It was just like sleeping in the same bed as your best friend at a third-grade slumber party. Not awkward at all.

.. Until God decided it was the perfect moment for a thunderstorm. Naturally, Alfred had shrieked at the first loud grumble, and pulled Yong Soo close by the waist as a steady pitter-patter of rain bounced off the windows. The Korean froze where he was, Alfred's shaky breath warm on his neck.

Slowly, he'd hugged Alfred back, telling him that It's okay, it's just a thunderstorm, dude, so you don't have to worry. That seemed to calm him down a bit, and his tight grip around Yong Soo loosened marginally.

And then Alfred looked up and kissed him. Yong Soo assumed he was being thanked and took it like a man, even returning the favor a bit. At first, it made Yong Soo feel weird. Like he was kissing his brother or something. However, a second before Al pulled away, he'd started getting used to it, and even decided that spending the rest of his life kissing Alfred in a bed would not be a bad thing to do.

He didn't, though. Instead, Alfred fell asleep on top of him, and Yong Soo moved a bit, adjusting the blond so he wasn't cutting off the circulation of blood in his arm. And then he fell asleep, too.

-O-O-O-

Every night since the horror movie incident, Alfred had done the exact same thing.

At around ten thirty at night, he would stumble up to the front door, exhausted from a rigorous day of schoolwork or an unforgiving work schedule. Eventually, somehow, he would manage to unlock the door and push through into the cozy space. Alfred would throw his coat somewhere vaguely to his left, and kick off his shoes. Dropping his keys and phone on the table, the blond would then trudge into the bedroom closest to the kitchen, pulling off his shirt and dropping his pants along the way, forgotten in the hall.

Without knocking, he'd open the door and maneuver his way through the dark until he collapsed in a bed, sometimes landing on top of a snoozing Korean, and sometimes missing the bed completely and falling the the floor.

Regardless, the outcome was always the same: Yong Soo would wake up. He'd either push Al off or help him up, and then the two would lie back down, one hugging the other around the waist. They'd kiss goodnight.

And two minutes before eleven, Alfred would ask him to say **it**. He liked Yong Soo's voice being the last thing he heard before drifting off to sleep. He liked being able to accurately dream about the tempo, the low, tired way he spoke, and the genuine sincerity in his voice.

So Yong Soo would sigh or yawn and then quietly say, "I love you, Alfred." He'd bury his nose in the blond hair and immediately fall asleep, leaving Alfred to smile through his drowsiness and tell himself that maybe he _was_ a little obsessed...


End file.
